Blood of the Rose (18 page)

“You believe your uncle is mad?”

“I’m not certain. What do you think?”

“I
think
I should speak to old Brother Samuel at Westminster Abbey. He holds the records of the cult in trust.” Marcus sat back and eyed Christopher. “This doesn’t mean that you are absolved of your crimes.”

“I never assumed that it did. Verily, the thought never occurred to me.”

“Liar,” growled Marcus.

Christopher smiled. “While you are looking at those records, I’d appreciate a look too.”

“You believe there is a way to challenge your death sentence?”

Christopher stood up. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

Marcus’s skeptical expression didn’t alter. “In any struggle, dreamers are always the first to die.”

“I disagree. Hope is a precious thing.” Christopher bowed. “Will you tell me if the cult members are summoned? I would like to attend such a meeting.”

“Your uncle will not welcome your presence.”

“Then we won’t tell him I’ll be there, will we?”

Marcus nodded. “If it happens, I’ll send you word.”

“I appreciate it.”

Christopher walked away whistling. The first inkling of a way out of at least one of his problems had emerged in the unlikely persona of the unsmiling, unhelpful Marcus Flavian. If he could rid the Mithras Cult of his uncle’s malign influence, that would be something. It didn’t quite solve the problem of his impending death, but it was a start.

He was still smiling as he rounded a corner and walked straight into Rosalind. Her breath hissed out as he caught her by the elbows and steadied her. She was dressed in his favorite colors of dark red with black velvet sleeves. After a quick look around, he drew her closer into the shadows of the wall.

“Are you all right?” His gaze sharpened as he noticed how stiffly she held herself. “Are you injured?”

“I fell from a tree last night.”

“And?”

“I bruised my ribs.”

He briefly closed his eyes. “Rosalind, if you will not let me help you, please, send for Jasper. You and Rhys cannot fight them all.”

“We have to.” She swallowed hard and straightened away from him. “They don’t want to kill us yet. They’re toying with us, like cats playing with a terrified, wounded mouse. I assume they’re waiting for the Boleyns to come and finish us off personally.”

“Rosalind”—he heard the anguish and frustration in his own voice—“let me fight with you. I’ve rebuilt my defenses. I swear to you that I—”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “No, we can manage. Please don’t put yourself in danger.”

He kissed her fingers and held on to them. “I feel like a coward, hiding behind his woman’s skirts.”

“You are fighting your own battles, and they are equally important.” She glanced over his shoulder. “I have to go. The king wishes to talk to me.”

“And what exactly are you going to tell him?”

Her shoulders bowed. “Nothing to implicate the Boleyns. So far I have no evidence that will convince him, or bring him out of the spell Anne has put him under.”

“We have to find something. We cannot go on like this.” He released her hands and she was gone, leaving him facing the stone wall, a dull ache in his heart that never seemed to lift. Furtive meetings, rushed lovemaking, and the threat of death hanging over them both. Defying Anne took so much of his strength, it couldn’t go on for much longer. But how in God’s name were they going to bring it to a close without one of them dying?

After her unexpected meeting with Christopher, Rosalind made her way to the king’s privy chamber. She kept her head down to avoid looking at any of the other courtiers. It seemed there were Vampires everywhere these days, their scent overwhelming her, tormenting her every night with dreams of being drowned in their blood.

“Good morning, Lady Rosalind.”

“Good morning, Sir Henry.”

Sir Henry Norris bowed to her and then opened the door into the king’s inner sanctum. Rosalind moved past him and then came to an abrupt halt as she saw George Boleyn laughing with the king. She forced a smile and dropped into a low curtsy. “Good morning, Your Majesty, Lord Rochford.”

“Ah, Lady Rosalind.” King Henry beckoned her to rise. “And how are you this fine morning?”

“I’m well, sire.” She looked pointedly at George Boleyn. “I understood that you wished to speak to me, Your Majesty—in private.”

“I can see that I am not wanted here, sire. I will await your presence in the outer room.” George bowed to the king and then half turned to Rosalind. “Good morning, my lady.”

Rosalind let out her breath as George stalked out of the room and banged the door behind him. She looked back at the king, who was watching her intently.

“You do not like Lord Rochford?”

“I hardly know him, sire.”

The king crossed over to the fireplace and took his seat. “Yet he seems to know you quite well. In fact, he was just talking about your betrothal.”

“Lord Rochford was?”

“Aye, he suggested that his friend Lord Christopher Ellis wished to end the arrangement.”

“Is that so, sire? I wonder why Lord Christopher did not tell you so himself.”

“Perhaps he thought Lord Rochford was higher in my favor.”

Rosalind had nothing to say to that. She simply stood and waited as the king continued to study her. Had Christopher really asked to end their betrothal and, if so, why hadn’t he spoken to her about it? Unease gathered in her stomach and she swallowed hard. Would it be better for her to agree, and at least free Christopher from this impossible situation? Was that what he was trying to do for her?

“I’m not sure what to say, Your Majesty. As you know, my family and the Ellises have long been enemies.”

“Yet you managed to ally with Lord Christopher for long enough to kill that Spanish Vampire.” King Henry shifted in his seat. “
And
you should remember, young lady, that I abhor family enmity and would consider your marriage a step in the direction of peace.”

Rosalind met his hard gaze. “I am your willing subject to command, sire. I will abide by any decision you make.”

“As is right and proper.” The king nodded. “I shall consider the matter further.” He lowered his voice. “Now tell me if you have any more news about this latest Vampire threat.”

Rosalind tried not to look away. “There is definitely a threat, sire. You should be on your guard.”

“A threat from whom?”

“I cannot be specific, sire. There are more Vampires at court than there used to be, and your life is in danger.” Rosalind paused. Was there anything she could say that might hint that the danger was closer than he could possibly imagine?

“What exactly are you suggesting, my lady?”

“Your Majesty, you are the most intelligent man in the whole of Europe. I need hardly explain anything to you. Your natural shrewdness and devout faith will protect you from harm.”

The king rested his bearded chin on his hand. “You are reminding me again not to trust anyone, aren’t you?”

Rosalind curtsied. “Yes, sire. Not even your closest friends.”

“Or family? Or . . . lovers?”

“Anyone, sire. You hold great power in your hands, and there are many who would like to rob you of it.”

“That I understand.” King Henry nodded slowly. “I will be on my guard. I trust you will inform me if you discover exactly who it is who wishes to kill me.”

Rosalind hesitated. “Sire, there are many ways for the Vampires to defeat you. They may not seek your death, but rather to control you and, through you, rule the country.”

“I would be alive and yet in thrall to the Vampires?” The king shuddered. “That is sacrilege.”

“It is a possibility, sire. Do not assume an assassin would come to kill you. Think about how close people are allowed to get to your royal person.”

The king’s fat fingers went to his throat. “The Vampire would suck my blood, make me one of them?”

“They might, sire.” Rosalind held his gaze. “I hope to prevent it.”

King Henry made the sign of the cross over his heart. “A fate worse than death, to live in thrall to another’s commands. I shall be wary, my lady. Do not worry.”

“Thank you, sire. And I will do my best to make sure that nothing happens to you either.”

The king nodded and waved his hand for her to leave, his expression dark, his hand already reaching for the prayer book beside him. She hoped she’d said enough to keep him on his guard. Hopefully, his suspicious nature would keep him alive despite anything Anne Boleyn could do with her magic. It was lucky for all concerned that Anne had refused to join the king in his bed or else all would be over.

As she passed through the outer chambers, Rosalind smiled at Sir Henry and ignored George Boleyn, who sat glowering in the window seat. It was becoming harder and harder to pretend that all was well, when her body ached from the ceaseless fighting at night, and her mind was saturated by Vampire scents. She wanted Christopher by her side. She needed him, but she couldn’t have him. With all the courage she could muster, Rosalind picked up her skirts and headed back to serve Anne Boleyn.

Christopher paused in the passageway that led between the Lady Anne’s apartments and the servants’ route to the stables. Ahead of him he could hear Anne’s high-pitched voice engaged in an argument with a man who was definitely not the king. He kept close to the shadows of the wall and moved nearer.

“Elias, you are being ridiculous,” Anne hissed. “Of course nothing is wrong.”

“Then why do you allow that youngling, that underaged Vampire, to share your bed instead of me?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! I’ve told you. George amuses me.”

“He does more than that.”

There was an impatient rustle of skirts. “He is just entertaining me while I wait for the king to fulfill his promise. When I am queen, you can take your rightful place at my side.”

“Are you sure about that, Anne? Or do you intend to elevate George rather than me?”

Christopher held his breath.

“Darling, we have known each other for centuries.” Anne’s voice was purring now as if she was intent on kissing her way around Elias’s objections. “You mean more to me than any other man of my acquaintance.”

“Anne . . .” Elias went quiet and Christopher tried not to think about how Anne had stopped his words. After a long while, Elias said, “You had better not be lying to me, my lady, or I’ll take great pleasure in breaking your pretty little neck.”

Anne laughed. “And I promise that when I am done with George, you may have the pleasure of killing him for me.”

Christopher stayed still as Anne’s light footsteps faded away. He waited for another minute or two and then moved forward—straight into Elias Warner, who barred his way.

“What do you want, Lord Christopher?”

“I’m merely on my way to the stables.”

“And heard far more than you should.”

“Do you intend to kill me for it? Come, it’s not as if I didn’t know that you and the Lady Anne are . . . What exactly are you to her, Elias? Her supper?” Christopher groaned as Elias shoved him against the stone wall and grabbed him by the throat. “What’s wrong? Did I hit a nerve?”

Elias’s fangs emerged and glinted in the feeble light. “You—you know nothing.”

Christopher held his gaze. “I know that she is a lying bitch. You know it too. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Elias’s eyes glowed an unearthly red, and then he calmed, abruptly releasing Christopher. “Do not speak of my lady like that.”

Christopher rearranged the collar of his shirt. “When you realize that she is just using you, come and talk to me.”

Elias’s eyebrows went up. “I thought you were loyal to Lady Anne.”

Christopher deftly ignored the question. “George Boleyn hates you, and I know him well enough to realize he will never relinquish his hold on Anne to you.”

“He will be easy to kill,” Elias retorted.

“Not if Anne has drained you of all your powers to serve herself. What if that is her plan, to weaken you while she feeds George Boleyn?”

“She is not feeding him. I would’ve seen the marks.”

“It depends where she allows him to feed from her, doesn’t it? Some places are far more intimate than others.” Christopher watched anger stir on Elias’s normally bland face. “I’ll bid you good day.” He started off down the passageway toward the stables.

“Wait,” Elias called to him.

Christopher half turned. “What?”

“You have always been one of George’s closest friends. Do you swear she is feeding him?”

“So George told me. He tends to be indiscreet when in his cups.”

Elias took a long, unsteady breath. “Then I am indeed compromised.”

Christopher continued on his way. If they could persuade Elias onto their side, they might stand a chance against Anne. Elias of all people must know her secrets, her fears, her deepest desires. And knowing those things would make it much easier to plan her doom.

He found himself smiling as he emerged into the busy activity of the immense stable yard. The pleasant weather meant the smell of horse dung and wet straw was noticeably absent, for which he was very grateful. As Christopher walked along the row of stalls, Rhys called his name.